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[[preprinted]] Saturday, June 6, 1908 [[/preprinted]]

My old friend Davidass wrote me last mail.  When he closed up I told him unless he had contrary orders he'd better sell the Bombay furniture and ship the rest of the stuff here.  He writes back and says the stuff will be held in Bombay until "receipt of the order from Head Office." The bloody himal! I wonder if he expects to get his wages all the time he's sitting on five quid worth of kitchen chairs, until he gets a letter back from New York? These Banyans sometimes very nearly approach the limit. Its his ras kabeer. 

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[[preprinted]] Sunday, June 7, 1908 [[/preprinted]]

Devilish hot, girls. We got the mail directly after tiffin. and that took our attendtion off the weather somewhat.  What I should like out here after tiffin , is a nice cool Sunday, - with walnuts on top.  Shades of Lufkin! The ice-cream this bloody Goanese makes is the limit - it tastes like perfume, and bum perfume at that. The U.S. is the place for frozen delicacies. Perhaps the best we have is the Boston girl. But she can be anything but cold when she makes up her mind. 

I come from Boston.